


she answered with a howl

by funvee



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:51:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funvee/pseuds/funvee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose's journey to find the Doctor again. 555 words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	she answered with a howl

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Doomsday and Journey's End.

__ It is cold and wet and lonely. _ _

_ Though how she can be lonely, when surrounded by a million and one people buzzing around like flies, still baffles her to this day. And yet, at the same time, she wonders how she had never been lonely with just him around. _

_ One man had filled her life like a crowd.  _

And now, there was a big oozing wound, right there in her chest, smack dab between her lungs. It was as if someone had cut out her heart with a jagged piece of metal.

White hot pain still flared through her every time he flew across her mind.

It didn’t take much. It never did.

Someone brushing her hand as she walked to work. Someone whipping their trench coat around as they hurried by. Bananas at the grocery store. Little things. Tiny little minuscule things that no one would ever know or understand sent her sniffling into her sleeve. Sniffling turned into outright tears. And tears turned into breakdowns.

There were shadows of him everywhere. 

The hole didn’t get any better. In fact, sometimes it felt as if it got worse. As if the edges became harsher, or as if great pieces of her suddenly broke off and fell into it, never to return.

Nothing ever quite fit the same. 

Quite right, too. You can’t fit a square piece into a circle space. No hand would ever feel like his in hers.

There is no one like him but him.

Things carried on like this. Time changed, pulled, pushed, and moved on. And so did she.

But not from him.

No, she would not give up on him.

The time came when she grew tired of being sad. She was exhausted of the mental and emotional toll. She had had enough. 

She was not a cowering dog. She was not someone’s pet. She was not a damsel in distress. (Though stress was very common.) She was **not** going idly wait by for someone to rescue her. 

She was the Bad Wolf.

And she was going to do something about it. 

“Impossible,” he had said.

“You can’t,” he had said.

She answered with a howl, loud and echoing. 

No one was going to tell her no. Certainly not him. Certainly not _that_ man. The man who took her to see stars being born, to see the end of the earth. That man that had shown her twelve impossible things daily. Impossible was not a word that he got to use.

Time yanked on her again, urging her forward with unrelenting tugs. She pointed her cannon at it and blew holes through it. 

She was the boss here. Not time. 

She searched, nose to the ground, for her shadow-man. Shadows were _hard_ to smell. 

But not impossible. 

His shadow stretched across a hundred billion universes, a million planets and a thousand stars. She followed it, walking, along every single one.

And then, she saw him. Not his shadow, but him. He was there. Right there. When had she caught up? When was she no longer chasing a diminishing shadow?

He turned, and the smile that lit his face sent off fireworks lighting the dark inside her. The hole was lessening, the wound was healing. The pain was no longer there. 

She was here. With him.

As it should be.

 


End file.
